by Vella Day
Burning Seduction
Montana Promises
Book 5
Vella Day
BURNING SEDUCTION
Copyright © 2015 by Vella Day
Kobo Edition
www.velladay.com
[email protected]
Cover Art by Scott Carpenter
Edited by Rebecca Cartee and Carol Adcock-Bezzo
Published in the United States of America
E-book ISBN: 978-1-941835-14-2
Print Edition ISBN: 987-1-941835-15-9
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief questions embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Other Books by the Author
About the Author
Chapter One
Detective Trent Lawson might have been responsible for putting a lot of men in the Montana State Prison, but he’d never escorted any of them out before—especially someone related to him.
“Your brother is being brought out now,” the guard said.
Despite having visited Harmon many times, the barren walls and sterile environment still gave Trent the creeps. He couldn’t imagine being cooped up in there. The three years his brother had served seemed like a lifetime.
Dragging his palms down his jeans, Trent was both excited and uneasy about having Harmon back in Rock Hard. He’d thought he’d known his older brother, but apparently Trent had kept his head in the sand when it came to him. Now that he’d served his time for insider trading, it was time for Trent to let go of his anger. At least that was his plan. How well he could execute it was anyone’s guess.
He shook his head. There had been a time when he’d worshipped his older brother, but no longer. Harmon had fallen off that pedestal when he broke the law. It was ironic that Trent had been the one who’d been tossed in the Last Opportunity School just as Harmon was finishing college and graduating at the top of his class.
He’s here.
Standing erect, and with his gaze cast slightly downward, Harmon was led out by an armed guard. Before prison, his brother kept his light brown hair perfectly styled, but now it was cropped short. He’d also been on the chunky side, but his brother was thinner now and packed with muscles. Despite the positive change in fitness level, his brother looked older, more worn. Appeals and false hope had done that to him.
Trent inhaled, moved toward Harmon, and embraced his brother for a moment before holding him out at arm’s length. “You look like shit, bro, you know that?” Humor was the only way to calm his churning gut.
He held his breath, not having any idea whether he’d be met with anger, cheer, or total elation.
Harmon smiled, and a familiar brotherly rush filled him. He looked behind Trent. “I take it the old man didn’t come?”
Trent blew out a breath. “You know better than to ask.”
Harmon slung an arm over Trent’s shoulder. “As I’ve been saying, I was framed, but no one seems to believe me, especially Dad.”
All criminals claimed they were innocent, but Trent decided to keep that opinion to himself. “Dad’s a cop at heart. He’ll need irrefutable proof.”
Harmon lowered his arm and nodded. “I plan to get some, but I was hoping doing my time would have helped him forgive me.”
“You know him. Or maybe you don’t. Ever since he became disabled, he’s become more ornery.”
“Didn’t think that was possible. I had hoped we could be a family again, but I guess not.” He shoved a free hand in his pocket, holding his few possessions in the other.
As much as Trent would have liked to turn back the hands of time to before his parents divorced and when Harmon was riding high, Trent was the first to admit that wishing for those days wouldn’t make them return. Besides, he wasn’t ready to open his heart and be all-forgiving either. He, too, had been betrayed.
They reached his Jeep and Trent jogged to the driver’s side, while Harmon slid onto the passenger’s seat. “If I forgot to mention it, thanks for picking me up,” Harmon said as soon as Trent was seated.
“That’s what brothers are for.” Even when Trent had visited him in prison, the tension between them had never been this intense. “I found you an apartment, but it won’t be available for another week.”
“Fantastic, though I won’t be a charity case. I’ll need to look for a job, even though I had a little money left over after the trial.”
He had a lot left over. The lawyer’s fees had only put a small dent in his savings. “I asked Pete Banks of Banks Construction if he needed someone for his crew, and he said he could use a man. Since you always were the handy one, I thought it might be a good fit.”
“In high school, maybe. I appreciate you helping, but I want to do this my way.”
Trent wasn’t one to push. He understood pride better than anyone. “Fine.”
The hour drive went by quickly, mostly because Harmon kept the focus off himself by asking about Trent’s detective work. “You really seem to love your job,” his brother said, pride evident in his voice.
“I do. Given where I was thirteen years ago, I certainly wouldn’t have pictured that I’d end up in law enforcement.”
“The service turned you around.”
“True, as did that school for delinquents.” Trent drove through the main part of town and couldn’t help but wonder what changes his brother spotted. “Look any different?”
Harmon kept his gaze out the window. “Not too much. Glad to see Italiano’s Pizza is still there.”
“Yup.” Harmon used to work there in high school. Trent was seven years younger, and at the time, wasn’t aware of anything other than sports and girls.
“There’s Charley’s Crafts and the Park Hotel.” Harmon leaned back and smiled. “It’s good to be home.”
Trent hoped his brother had the same opinion in a month. Not everyone thought highly of ex-cons. Once past town, Trent made good time to his house. “I picked up a few of your things from Dad’s.” After Harmon went to jail, Trent had packed up his brother’s belongings from his apartment and stored them in Dad’s garage.
Harmon smiled, looking like he used to before all this shit came down. “I owe you.”
Only for crushing my dreams. Trent pulled into his drive. “Home, sweet home.” Harmon hadn’t seen it since he’d purchased the house two years ago.
“Nice.”
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His two-bedroom wasn’t large, but it served his purpose especially since he wasn’t home much. Between protecting lovely ladies in distress and tracking down clues, he kept busy.
Once inside, he showed his brother to his room and where things were located, but Trent was at a loss what to say. “I promised a friend I’d go to his birthday party, and I’m running a little late. You want to come?”
As mean as it sounded, he almost didn’t want his brother to take him up on his offer. There’d be too many uncomfortable questions. It wasn’t as if he told the world he had a brother in the joint.
“Thanks for the invite, but I’ll pass. I might spend a whole hour in the shower, then veg in front of the tube—something I rarely had the opportunity to do in prison. Besides, you don’t need to be dragging around an ex-con.”
Trent refused to comment. “I stocked up on beer and food. Help yourself.”
“Sounds good. Actually, it sounds fantastic.”
“Yeah.” Not ready for more conversation, Trent hurried out.
Going to Vic Hart’s party empty handed wasn’t his style, so he stopped at the Jiffy Mart to pick up a six-pack. Before he went inside, he called the birthday boy.
“I hope you aren’t canceling,” Vic said without even saying hi. A laugh sounded in the background, along with other chatter.
Trent chuckled. “Are you kidding? I’ve been working nonstop for three days.” Not to mention picking up my brother from prison. “I’ve been looking forward to this, old man.” Vic was turning fifty-one. “I’m at Jiffy’s, and just wanted to see if you or Ellie needed anything. More booze, chips, dip?”
“Let me ask her.” Vic mumbled something. “No, we’re good. Just get your ass over here so the party can begin.”
“Be there in ten.”
The store was empty, which was rare for a Friday night. Since he’d not taken a leak at his house, he headed to the back toward the bathrooms. Once he finished and stepped into the hallway, he heard shouts coming from the front. His instincts kicked in, and he went for his gun. Fuck. He’d left his spare in his glove compartment.
Crouching low, he edged his way between the bread section and candy aisle. Some guy was facing a pale looking clerk, whose hands were raised. Not good. From the robber’s slight size, he probably wasn’t more than a kid. Jesus. Trent didn’t need this tonight, not after what he’d gone through today. His nerves were already on edge.
“Give me the money,” the young man grunted.
Trent checked for other occupants but detected no one, and he hoped it stayed that way. When the clerk spotted him, Trent held up his hand hoping to prevent the man from giving away his position. He then slowly reached into his pocket, and when he waved his badge, the clerk’s shoulders relaxed. Perhaps now he wouldn’t try anything heroic.
The man behind the counter told the kid he’d give him anything he wanted. While the gunman was being placated, Trent eased closer. The cash register dinged open and the clerk slowly removed the money, giving Trent time to move into position.
When he cleared the final aisle, Trent sprinted toward his target, eating up the last ten feet before the kid could react. In one quick move, Trent wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, and with his other hand, wrenched the weapon from his fingers. “You’re under arrest.”
“Fuck you, man. I didn’t do nothin’.” The kid squirmed, but Trent held him tight. Jeez, he almost sounded like Harmon, claiming he was innocent. Guilt stabbed him. He wondered if this kid would end up spending a large portion of his life in prison.
Trent nodded to the clerk. “Got something I can tie him up with?” His cuffs were in the cruiser, which was back at the station.
“Sure thing,” the nervous clerk said, hustling out from behind the counter.
Seconds later, the guy handed him a roll of duct tape. With the boy slammed against the counter, Trent managed to secure the thief’s hands. He then stepped away and brandished the perpetrator’s gun at him, hoping the weapon was loaded in case he needed to fire a warning shot. “Don’t move.”
Trent called the precinct and asked for back up. Two units arrived rather quickly, and he could only hope the paperwork would go as fast. He had a party to attend and a certain situation to forget.
* * *
Charlotte Hart, Vic’s twenty-four-year-old daughter, went in search of her father in the kitchen. “Didn’t you say Trent would be here in ten minutes? It’s been forty-five. Do you think we should call him?”
“He’ll be here. He probably got sidetracked. Maybe he had to get a cat out of a tree.”
Charlotte huffed. Her dad never seemed to take her seriously, especially when it came to Trent “That’s not what he does.”
Her dad stepped over to her, enfolded her in his arms, and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry, he’ll be here.”
Her pulse raced. “Does that mean you’re in favor of me dating him?” Not that Trent had shown much interest or asked her out. Yet.
“You know how your mom and I feel about that. Trent’s job is dangerous.”
“Your job is dangerous, yet Mom came back to you.” So what if her parents had divorced for five years because of her dad’s former FBI gig. Mom and Dad had remarried just last week, and that was all that mattered.
“All I’m saying is be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
His cell rang and excitement raced through her, hoping it might be Trent calling again. “Is that him?”
Dad nodded. “Hey, where are you? Seriously?” Her dad chuckled. “Murphy’s Law, I guess. Get here when you can.” He then disconnected.
“What did he say?”
She probably shouldn’t be so excited, as that would only lead to disappointment. After all, she hadn’t seen him since the Christmas party two months ago. Before that, he’d only called twice after the stalker incident to make sure she wasn’t having a meltdown.
“Apparently, he was delayed by a robbery at a convenience store.”
Charlotte slapped a hand on her chest. “Is he okay?”
“Yup. Your hero was buying some beer and caught the guy. He has to fill out some paperwork and will be here as soon as he can.”
That sucked, but at least he was safe. She should just forget about him. Dad had told Trent that she’d moved to Rock Hard last week, yet he hadn’t made the effort to contact her. She was such a fool, but with a bit of planning, she would change that.
Before she became more upset, the front doorbell rang and a good-looking guy walked in with a food tray in his hand and a six-pack resting on top. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a total loss, after all.
Two of the partygoers greeted the newcomer before he made it six feet. “Who’s that?” she asked her dad, partly needing him to believe she was willing to focus on others.
“That’s Devon Navarro, a cop with the Rock Hard Police Department. We worked together on a case last month. Nice kid. Works hard and is competitive. I think he might go places in the Force if he can keep focused.”
Another cop. Damn. Being new in town, though, it wouldn’t hurt to meet as many people as she could.
Her mom stepped into the kitchen. “Everything okay?”
“Just getting another beer,” her dad said as he slipped a can out of the cooler and escorted her mother back out to the party.
Charlotte picked up a tray of chips and dip to bring out and rushed up to her dad. “By the way, nice going inviting mostly men.”
He wagged a finger at her. “Remember, they’re all in law enforcement.”
That meant they were off limits. She spotted his secretary, Sharon, and a few other women at the party, but most seemed to be attached to a specific man. Charlotte set the tray on the dining room table, but only after moving a few things around to make room for it.
“Hello,” came the deep voice behind her.
She spun around. Whoa. It was Devon, the hot cop with the movie star good looks. “Hi.”
He smiled and she bet there were a lot of
broken hearts in town. She held out her hand. “I’m Charlotte Hart.”
He introduced himself. “You Vic’s daughter?”
“The one and only.”
“Awesome. Where should I set this?” He glanced down to his tray.
How nice of him to bring food. She lifted the beer from on top and made room on the table. “Right here.”
“You come down for your dad’s birthday?” His brows pinched. “Didn’t I hear you lived up north?” He slipped the beer from her hands.
Had Trent talked about her? Or had her dad? “I use to live in Kalispell, but I moved here about a week ago.”
His eyes shone. “You going to school here?”
Rock Hard had a good university, and because she was blonde and had a round face, she looked young, but she was twenty-four, not eighteen. “No. I’m opening a branch of an interior design firm that’s based in Kalispell.”
“Wow. You’re a decorator?”
She was pleased he didn’t look down his nose at her. Some men did. “Yes.”
“Cool.” He plucked a beer from the six-pack. “Care for one?”
“Sure. You want to put the others in the fridge?”
“That would be great.” He followed her into the kitchen.
Charlotte had to squish a few things to make room for his drinks. Hopefully, her mom wouldn’t freak that she’d set things on top of each other. “My dad says you two worked together on a case.” She closed the door and faced him.
Devon smiled. “He did?” She nodded. “That was very generous of him. All I did was track down a few leads and make the final arrest of some guy who was harassing your dad’s client.”
“That sounds like you helped a lot.”
“I’d like to think so.” He glanced down for a second, almost as if he wasn’t used to compliments, something she found interesting.
“I know this might sound strange coming from his daughter, but what is my dad like to work with?” It was only a few months ago that she and her dad had reconnected.
His brows rose as he leaned against the kitchen counter and tipped back his beer. “Your dad’s focused and a bulldog. He leaves no stone unturned, so to speak. He’s a stand up guy.”
